The day is a full hour shorter now than it was at the summer solstice. A little more than a half an hour has been shorn from each end, like slightly clipped wings -- one can still fly, but not so high. Although it's still early August, a traditionally hot humid time here in New England, the catalogs have begun to appear at the door full of tweeds and leather -- even down-stuffed parkas and toasty boots in one of them! I've not even taken my summer vacation yet, a long weekend at the Cape with D towards the end of August, the last weekend before Labor Day weekend (the official End of Summer here). Perhaps we should have booked an earlier time slot.
I get sad with the passing of the summer season. Even though when fall is in full swing, I adjust and appreciate the crisp days, the turning leaves, the coziness. But summer is all too short, and I'm inevitably too busy and don't have enough time off. Those "lazy hazy crazy days of summer" are more crazy than lazy. But I do have the long weekend away to look forward to. Until then, I'll try to make time to savor what's left of summer.